when he came into the stable on cold winter mornings, before the
sun was up

He would hang his lantern on a hook, and get his milking stool,
and if the cows did not step aside just to suit him, he would seize a
broom or fork, and beat them cruelly.

My mother and I slept on a heap of straw in the corner of the
stable, and when she heard his step in the morning she always
roused me, so that we could run out-doors as soon as he opened
the stable door. He always aimed a kick at us as we passed, but my
mother taught me how to dodge him.

After he finished milking, he took the pails of milk up to the house
for Mrs. Jenkins to strain and put in the cans, and he came back
and harnessed his horse to the cart. His horse was called Toby, and
a poor, miserable, broken-down creature he was. He was weak in
the knees, and weak in the back, and weak all over, and Jenkins
had to beat him all the time, to make him go. He had been a cab
horse, and his mouth had been jerked, and twisted, and sawed at,
till one would think there could be no feeling left in it; still I have
seen him wince and curl up his lip when Jenkins thrust in the
frosty bit on a winter's morning.

Poor old Toby! I used to lie on my straw some times and wonder
he did not cry out with pain. Cold and half starved he always was
in the winter time, and often with raw sores on his body that
Jenkins would try to hide by putting bits of cloth under the
harness. But Toby never murmured, and he never tried to kick and
bite, and he minded the least word from Jenkins, and if he swore at